


Have Me, Have You, Have Us

by meloingly



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Friendship, Mentions of past homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28815666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meloingly/pseuds/meloingly
Summary: Five times Carlos reveals something about himself that no one else knows, and it helps him get closer to the 126 crew, and one time the 126 knows something that Carlos doesn't.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Comments: 17
Kudos: 152
Collections: Carlos Reyes Week 2021





	Have Me, Have You, Have Us

**Author's Note:**

> Carlos Week Day 3: "Well, that just happened" + Friendship.
> 
> This is a multi-chaptered fic. I've tried to write them all in time to be published together, but by God, they weren't having it. I still haven't decided how I'll update, but I'm thinking bi-weekly. Tags will be updated accordingly.
> 
> Beta credit, as usual, to the wonderful [Lire-Casander](https://lire-casander.tumblr.com/) She has been the most amazing throughout this, always there for every step as I stress and rant and change plots a hundred and one times.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters depicted, they belong to their creators. I'm writing just for the fun

Carlos walks into the honky-tonk a mere forty-five minutes after his shift ended. He was on the way home when TK called him and asked if he would detour. He likes the man, so it didn't need much pondering over. 

He sees TK standing in front of one of the multiple dartboards hung on the wall, alongside Michelle, Captain Strand, Judd, Marjan and Mateo. They seem to be engrossed in a contest, if the annoyance on Marjan's face, the smugness in Judd's and the paper and pen in Mateo's hand are anything to go by. 

He hesitates for a moment, the idea of walking into the middle of the group to greet them sends a slight shiver down his back and he quickly decides he'll wait for them to finish. He spots Paul sitting at the self-claimed "126 table." He moves towards the bar, ordering mineral water, before he grabs his drink and walks towards the man. Recognising TK's jacket slung over the chair right next to Paul, he plops on the next stool over.

Paul turns around, a hint of surprise in his eyes, until the realisation of _who_ this hits him, and it's replaced with a smile.

"Hey, man."

"Hey," Carlos greets him back, "how you doing?"

Paul shrugs, and even though it's not much, Carlos understands the meaning behind it all the same. They fall into a comfortable silence, Carlos' eyes roaming the open area ahead of them. Three girls stand in the corner, dancing quietly amongst each other, two elderly men occupy a booth, Carlos gets the vibe that they're trading life-altering experiences. More "dudebros" hang around the snooker tables and dartboards. Carlos is about to focus back on TK, when he notices a singular woman sitting in a booth alone, a drink in her hand, a small, shy smile on her lips and eyes trained somewhere on their table.

Carlos frowns. He turns around, about to ask for some super-human Paul deduction powers when he realises that Paul is staring right back at her. A shy smile on his face too.

Carlos blinks. He looks back at the woman and sees that her eyes are now on her table, and then he turns to Paul, and his eyes are roaming the ceiling of the bar. He turns back to the woman, and now she's looking at Paul again. And Paul has his eyes locked on her.

Carlos curls into himself slightly, trying to get out of their visual field. He's sitting somewhat between them, and he'd like to not be. He concentrates on his drink, and everything else in the bar that _isn't_ Paul and his potential lady friend.

A few minutes later, he can't help but look towards her again. She's got her phone out now, scrolling up and down on the screen. Turning to Paul, he finds he's looking at his drink as well.

Carlos goes baffled. The woman is clearly interested in Paul, and while he might not be a super-detective like the other man, he can tell that the feeling is reciprocated. And yet, they're both just sitting here, alternating between eye flirting and avoidance. His curiosity gets the best of him, and he slides into the chair in between them.

"So, you're just not going to talk to her?"

Paul gawks at him, eyes widening in clear shock before he schools his reaction into some form of indifference.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Man," Carlos starts, rolling his eyes at the man, "I may not have the Gods of perception poised on my shoulders, but I'm not that blind!"

Paul narrows his eyes in response. Carlos is pretty sure he's going for accusation, but he's been trained to pick up on anything underneath, and in this case, it's a moment of contemplation. Whatever it is though, Paul seems to have made up his mind on it rather quickly. He sighs and looks down at his drink again.

"It's hard, man. Last thing I need is another rejection."

Carlos can't help the wave of sympathy that goes through him. The _again_ that Paul’s not saying takes him back to the night they went clubbing. TK hadn't said much about why, just that a friend needed a night to have fun and forget about things. 

"Ahh. Yeah. That's the queer life."

Paul snorts in reply, "Yeah, not all of us can find the one gay firefighter transfer and charm the pants off him."

Carlos lets out some mix of a loud laugh and a snort.

"Hey! I'm lucky right now, but that doesn't mean growing up didn't suck."

He can tell he's said too much by the way Paul goes quiet, and the atmosphere around them changes. With both understanding and pain. They look at each other, sharing a sympathetic smile, trying to convey a silent _"yeah? You too?"_

"Parents took it hard?" Paul asks.

Carlos lets out a genuine smile at that. If there's one thing he was blessed with the moment he was born, it was his family.

"The family was amazing. It's everyone else that wasn't."

Paul doesn't ask after that, not verbally at least. Carlos can see the questions in his eyes. He takes a calming breath. No one knows the story that's swarming around his mind right now. Michelle might have collected and connected bits and pieces through the years, but other than that, no one in Austin knows about his childhood. 

But here he is. He's okay. And he has a friend who is in a place he was in years ago. Fighting with acceptance and fear of rejection. He takes another breath.

"I came out to my dad and sister when I was 12. Everything went well. They were supportive, pledged their love, all of that," he starts. "A few weeks later though, I started finding notes in my locker."

Paul lets out a groan, undeniably aware of what kind of notes Carlos is talking about.

"A few weeks after the notes started, I got called into the principal’s office and told that my dad would be informed and they would help us _"change my homosexual ways"_ , he added, air quotations included.

It takes him back to a decade and a half ago. When a young, short and lanky Carlos was in science class, the notes hidden in the depth of his backpack. When the school speakers boomed with the principal's voice saying _"Carlos Reyes, please report to the Principal's office. Carlos Reyes, please report to the Principal's office."_ He remembers thinking, hoping, that it was about the notes, that the principal will ask who is sending him the vile words, and will make them stop. 

He remembers standing up to leave, and the teacher, Mr. Roger, telling to pack his bag as well. He remembers hearing a strange tone, but not quite understanding it. He knows now it was poison, venom, _hate._ He remembers doing it anyway. He remembers the walk down the hallway, bag on his shoulders, and the teachers glaring at him through the glass slits in the doors.

He remembers getting to the office. The secretary, Ms. Harding, holding his hand, telling him _"The Lord will cure you."_ He remembers not knowing what they meant. Not knowing what they were talking about. He doesn't get the chance to ask. He remembers being led to the Principal's room, the big office much more intimidating to his twelve-year-old eyes than it should have been. He remembers the nameplate; a large golden script of "Mr. Steve Atwood" and a smaller "Principal of Lubbock Junior High School" on a wooden piece. He remembers thinking it wasn't normal wood, it was red, and he didn't know wood could be red.

He remembers Mr. Atwood speaking, telling him that life is ruled by the Bible and God and Jesus. That he's a child who can still change. That this isn't the way to continue living. That his dad will be informed. That he will get help. That there are camps. That he will stop being this way.

"Were you out at school?" Paul asks, the horror evident in his tone.

It's the same horror Carlos remembers feeling when they were leaving church a few weeks before the incident, his sister by his side and their dad a few steps up ahead, talking to a neighbour. His sister had pointed towards a rainbow flag hung on the house across the street from the church. "We should get you one and hang it at home, that way the other boys like you will know where to find you," she had giggled. He had giggled right along with her, until he heard a gasp coming from behind him, and turned to find Mrs. Atwood behind him, eyes wide as he stared down at him in what he now knows was disgust. He remembers the fear that ran through him. But then his sister ran ahead. And he had followed her.

"Not really, but it doesn't make a difference," he explains. "It's not like they would have been supportive if I sat them down and told them."

Paul shakes his head, and then asks, "And then what happened?" 

"My dad came in somewhere through the dialogue, I remember Mr. Atwood standing up, trying to greet him, but he was mad. Angry in a way I've never seen before. He told me to go outside and wait for him."

Carlos pauses, the memory assaulting his senses. "I heard him screaming at the principal, saying that it wasn't Mr. Atwood's place to talk to me, that I was a child, that it was none of his business. That I wouldn’t be coming back to that school again."

He remembers the entire interaction like it was mere days ago. His dad walking out of the office, squatting down to Carlos' level and asking him if he had all his things. Carlos had answered a weak "yes", and his dad was already holding his hand, pulling him out of the school and into the car.

"He was quiet throughout the car ride. We turned into our street, but he just kept going, saying he forgot to get something from the store. He started to joke around with me then, telling me he was the World's Strongest Man and he could carry me, and the car and everything and anything. I played right along, and somehow, I found myself agreeing that if he could carry me then he was as strong as he said. We circled around the block, didn't even go to any stores, and parked in front of our porch. He pulled me through his door, hid my head in his neck and ran me home."

Carlos pauses. He can see Paul frowning over the story losing sense. Just like he had thought for so long. It never made sense to him why his dad carried him. Why that day? Why that fast? Until…

"I later found out that someone had written the _wonderful_ “f” slur on our garage door, and he didn't want me to see that." 

Paul smiles and nods. Carlos knows there is nothing else he could do. There are no words or actions to express what he felt when he found that out. His dad, the man that had spent his everything raising him, seeing something he knew would hurt his child, and doing everything in his power to protect him. If he turns out to be half the father his dad was, he would consider himself a good father.

"We started packing almost immediately, and we were out of that town in a week. He wouldn't let me or my sister leave the house, not even to play in the yard, throughout the week. Dad said he got a transfer, but he was home for a month, so I have a feeling that wasn't exactly true."

"He just packed y'all up and brought you here?" Paul asks.

"Yes. That's exactly what he did. He wanted us to live freely. To love freely. And he knew we wouldn't be able to do that in Lubbock. So he moved us out."

"To Austin?"

"Yeah, I mean, it was miles better than Lubbock, so, no complaints." Paul hums, but Carlos isn't done, "And plus, I met you, my new bestest friend in Austin!"

Paul laughs at that, and Carlos can't help but join him at Paul's mumbled "Yeah, right!"

The laughter dies down, and the easy silence returns. Carlos lifts the drink to his lips, eyes searching for TK. He sees him practically hanging off Mateo, arms around his shoulders. Marjan butts in between, shaking her hands towards the board while TK makes some sort of hand gesture. They're trying to show Mateo how to throw a dart, he realises. Slightly to their side, Michelle, Captain Strand and Judd hang around, beers in hands, looking pleased. His vision roams the bar again, falling on the woman, and it dawns on him that he never got to tell Paul what started the whole story in the first place.

The realisation sends him into a frenzy. He turns to Paul, only to, of course, find him looking at the woman. He pokes Paul's arm, and his eyes break off her to focus back on Carlos.

"I didn't tell you my coming out story because I had nothing better to do, you know," Carlos starts. "I have more story."

Paul shakes his head, a smile on his face, before making a "go ahead" gesture with his hands.

"When we moved here, my dad sat me down, and told me that he had my back, and that I should live free. Be the person that I am, who happens to be gay. And I thought that would be it, you know, I'd live now. My family was supportive. I was in an open city. I had it all good."

"But?" Paul interrupts.

"But. It wasn't that easy. That interaction with the principal and the looks of the teachers hit me harder the more I grew up, the more I started to understand what they meant. And I found myself a seventeen-year-old gay guy that was out in every way but wasn’t really out. I wouldn't ask anyone out. I wouldn't flirt. I wouldn't even let myself look at guys. All because I was afraid of that judgement and rejection and hate."

Paul huffs a breath, eyes moving to stare at the table. Carlos doesn't speak either. He knows that's what this is all about. The fear of not being accepted. Of not being taken in and liked because of something as trivial as their identity. He knows Paul is contemplating the situation. The win-loss ratio. He knows he did, many times before. He still does.

"How did you get over it?" 

Carlos is so lost in his own thoughts and emotions, he almost misses the mumbled question. He takes a breath, letting it out almost instantly in a sigh.

"My dad told me that I had spent too much time in fear. If I'm out, I might as well be out, live life, love life, and stop taking every rejection like it's the end of the world."

Paul nods, looking away at the woman across the bar, before Carlos continues, "When I still complained though, he then said "stop letting homophobic dickhead assholes control your life, if you like dick then you like dick, if the dick you like is a judgemental dick then find a better dick"."

Paul whips his head up to stare at Carlos, realises he is being serious, and proceeds to break out in a booming laugh. Carlos feigns offence for a moment, withdrawing his hand and holding it to his chest.

"You dare make fun of my father's sage advise?!"

Paul is still laughing, letting out broken no's and never's. Carlos drops the act, hands landing on the table and laughing with Paul, until it dies down.

"How did your nerdy self come from such wisdom?" Paul asks, after they take a moment to catch their breath.

"Hey! I took after his wisdom and handsomeness, I'll have you know!"

Paul snorts as he looks at the woman again, and Carlos turns his head just in time to see her lift her head up, make eye contact with Paul, and smile. He hears Paul inhale, and then, the scratch of a stool on wooden flooring.

He looks back at Paul, and finds that he's on his feet, fixing his pants. A grin takes over his face, and Paul levels him with a glare. It does nothing to diminish the excitement he feels when Paul pats his shoulder as he moves to the woman's table. The happy smile that takes over her face increases his own. And when she gestures at the empty seat across her - after a moment of talking - and Paul slides in, he realises that his heart beats with joy for him.

He's brought out to focus when arms circle his torso, and the very familiar lips of one TK Strand press a kiss on his cheek.

"Hi."

"Hey."

"What's Paul doing?" TK says, gesturing with his chin towards the booth they're in.

"Going after the proverbial dick he likes."

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 is dooooooone!
> 
> I hope I'll see ya'll in chapter 2? O.o


End file.
